


It's okay to be vulnerable

by That_Quirky_Character



Category: The Expanse (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, No Plot, Sickfic, literally just fluff, possibly a series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2019-09-28 00:20:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17172275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/That_Quirky_Character/pseuds/That_Quirky_Character
Summary: Chrisjen knows how to take care of those she loves, and Bobbie needs some help every now and then.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the Expanse- if I did, it'd be a hell of a lot gayer.  
> This is my first time writing for this show, so my characterizations might not be great just yet- but I'm learning! This is probably the first chapter of a few hurt/comfort/fluff fics for Bobbisarala.

Coming home each day had gotten a lot more pleasant for Chrisjen when Bobbie started staying with her. After the events within the ring resulted in Bobbie being essentially exiled from Mars, Chrisjen had pulled strings to get her safety on Earth again, and even citizenship. Now she was both Crisjen’s personal security detail and advisor, and lover too, though that wasn’t in her title. 

But all day Chrisjen had had a nagging feeling something was wrong. She herself was safe, as she’d had an all-day meeting on the budget- which was frustrating, but not as much as that fucking ring- and then been escorted to her house. The security risk was minimal, and Chrisjen had let Bobbie stay home, figuring the marine needed a break after all the stress she’d been under recently. 

For whatever reason, the air around her had just felt off, and when she pulled open the door to her home, shielding her braided hair from the rain, and Bobbie wasn’t there to greet her, those subtle paranoias exploded in her chest. “Bobbie?” She glanced around the foyer and the living room, seeing no sign of life. “Bobbie!”

She wasn’t in their bedroom, or the guest room, or the kitchen. “Where the fuck are you?” Chrisjen called out, letting the sharpness of her tone rise to compensate for her pounding pulse. She rounded a bend in the hallway and opened the bathroom door, allowing it to crash into the wall. “B- fuck, Bobbie.”

The younger woman was collapsed on the floor, leaning against the wall. Her head was drooped on her shoulder. She was wearing her jumpsuit, but it was crooked on her and not zipped up all the way. Chrisjen noticed the showerhead was still dripping, then it faded into the background as she dropped her to knees and cupped Bobbie’s face in her hand.

Before anything else, Chrisjen registered the ferocious heat radiating from Bobbie’s skin. It soaked through her palms and triggered a protective instinct in Chrisjen that she’d almost forgotten she had. It took Bobbie’s disoriented groan for her to snap out of it, and gently shake the marine. “Bobbie?”

The Martian groaned again, bordering on a whimper, and Chrisjen realized her hair was damp. Probably from the shower, but it could also have been from sweat with a fever that high. “What the hell happened to you? You’re on fire.”

Bobbie’s lips turned upwards into a loopy grin, her eyes blinking open, but they were glazed over. “I know,” she said. Her tone could have passed for teasing if it wasn’t for the heavy feverish slur of her words. 

“Damnit, not like that. You’re sick.” She tried, but Chrisjen could no longer muster her usual venom. Something about Bobbie made her feel warm and soft inside, and her hard exterior was deteriorating before her very eyes. 

“I threw up earlier.” Bobbie pressed her cheek into Chrisjen’s hand, enjoying the coolness of it. The Secretary General laid her other palm on Bobbie’s forehead, and she let out a sigh of relief. She glanced up at Chrisjen, and the older woman could see a bit of her lucidity returning. “My stomach still hurts.”

Chrisjen shifted to wrap one arm around her shoulders. “When did it get this bad?”

Bobbie winced. “I took a shower ‘cause I thought it would feel good. But I think I made it too hot.”

“Let me get this straight,” Chrisjen interrupted her, “You had a fever and were sick, and instead of calling me to help you, you took a hot shower and then fainted?”

Bobbie tensed beneath Chrisjen’s suddenly tight grip but nodded. “I don’t remember falling, but I did put this on.” She picked at the edge of her sleeve, and Chrisjen noticed for the first time that Bobbie was shaking. The sight gave Chrisjen an unexpected tug at her heartstrings, and she reached down to clutch her hand.

With her lips pressed together in a firm line, Bobbie let out a soft whimper, and lay her head on Chrisjen’s shoulder. As much as the older woman wanted to just stay on the floor and cradle Bobbie in her arms, it was painfully obvious that the marine needed to be in bed and resting.

She nudged her with a softly, giving her arm a gentle squeeze. “Let me help you up, Bobbie. I’ll make you some ginger tea. It should help your stomach.”

It took her a minute, but Bobbie agreed. But getting up proved more difficult than Chrisjen had anticipated. To her credit, Bobbie tried to stand on her own and use the wall as a support, but it didn’t work out. Instead, she half fell into the Secretary General’s arms.

Chrisjen grunted, knowing full well that she could not support Bobbie’s weight. For all her grievances about space, she had to admit that that issue hadn’t been a problem there. An instinctually teasing retort burned on the tip of her tongue, but she squashed it before it could escape. She didn’t want to hurt Bobbie, especially not when she was sick.

It took almost all Chrisjen’s core strength, but she got Bobbie to the kitchen, and helped her into one of the chairs. The marine mumbled something unintelligible and buried her head in her arms, laying them on the table. It served only to worry Chrisjen more. The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. “Fucking hell, Bobbie, at least stay awake long enough for me to boil the water.”

Bobbie slurred out a muffled “Sorry, madam.” She turned her head to look at Chrisjen, eyes bleary and cheek squished against her sleeve. Chrisjen’s heart gave a funny lurch.

When Chrisjen laid the steaming mug of tea down in front of Bobbie, she had to shake her awake. She pulled up a chair next to her as Bobbie took one tentative sip at a time, seeing how it settled with her. Chrisjen took some time to just watch the marine, observing the differences she recognized from the first time she’d seen her to now. Still stubborn as hell, but wiser. Much wiser. War will do that to you, death will do that to you. Chrisjen knows. She thinks back to Bobbie sitting in that chair giving her testimony about Ganymede, then breaking out of her room to go see the ocean. Chrisjen is certain that the latter event sealed her fate with the marine- if there’s anything she values, it’s determination.

Chrisjen handed Bobbie a couple fever reducers, which she took with the last of her tea. Chrisjen is pleased to see that her hands have stopped shaking, although she doesn’t look any more peaceful or calm than before. If anything, she seemed to have gotten slightly worse, and any trace of lucidity seemed to be draining away.

Bobbie reached out and grasped for Chrisjen’s wrist, her gaze holding onto hers for a minute then sliding down and shut, almost every part of her body going limp.

“Bobbie, let’s get to bed,” Chrisjen whispered, rubbing her arm to try and keep her awake. 

“Mmmph,” she protested, but stood up and stumbled back from the table, stopping herself from falling at the last second. She looked decidedly like she was about to be sick. Chrisjen reverted to her normal self and cursed herself out in her head simultaneously. 

“Bobbie, if you fucking throw up on my carpet, I will kick you out.” Chrisjen stood with her hands on her hips, purveying the younger woman, whose hair was, Chrisjen abruptly noticed, down. Maybe it was supposed to hide the fact that her complexion was a few shades paler than normal, and her cheeks looked sunken in. Dark circles rimmed her eyes, and she gave Chrisjen the vaguest impression of either a raccoon or a deer in headlights. Perhaps both.

She didn’t know if it was how Bobbie stumbled back even more, or the way her right hand was tangled in her hair and clutching to her scalp, or the mildly panicked “R-Really?” that fell off the Martian’s lips, but Chrisjen suddenly realized she had gone too far. She crossed the room in barely three strides, and pulled Bobbie close. Chrisjen’s arms wound around Bobbie’s torso, reaching up a hand to stroke the back of her neck. She could feel the heat pouring off the marine. 

“No. Not really,” Chrisjen reassured her, making her tone softer and softer. “But if you’re going to ruin something of mine, I’d prefer it to be more easily washed. So, let’s get you into bed.”

Bobbie didn’t move. Her head had fallen into the crook of Chrisjen’s neck and she stood half-bent over to lean on Chrisjen. The new Secretary General was much smaller than her, but at Bobbie’s current state, she was able to gently push and coerce her into their bedroom. 

The suit Bobbie wore under her armor was all she’d had to get dressed into after her shower, but it was no clothing to sleep in. Naturally, none of Chrisjen’s clothing would have fit the Martian, but she did manage to find a pair of sweatpants Cotyar had left here. He’d crashed at her place more than once, as her security detail, trading shifts with another guard, at least before Bobbie came along. She resisted the urge to call for him, something she often did when she needed help, as he usually could find things for her and deal with immediate issues. The strategic ones were more her specialty. But now, even thinking about him hurt and she couldn’t picture his face without picturing the Agatha King blowing up into a million little pieces of blue ooze and starlight. 

One of Chrisjen’s nightgowns covered Bobbie’s chest, but it did end up looking more like an oddly styled t-shirt. Bobbie grappled with the sweatpants, struggling more than usual to do the basic task. But Chrisjen did not intervene, allowing the marine a small show of independence. It was only when she finished dressing herself in pajamas and stood staring at Chrisjen with a dazed and confused look, her lips parted and annoyingly moist, that she guided Bobbie down onto the mattress. 

Normally, the Martian undressing for her preluded more than sleep, but at this moment Chrisjen would be pleased if she could even accomplish that objective. She grabbed the plastic bowl she’d taken from the kitchen and placed it on the nightstand at Bobbie’s side of the bed. “For you, just in case,” she clarified. She got no response for a minute, and acknowledged the wave of concern with “And watch out for the fucking carpet.”

Bobbie nodded, but only halfheartedly, and it could have just as easily been a wobble. Chrisjen tucked her arms around the marine again and was unsurprised when Bobbie’s head lolled onto her chest. Chrisjen began to trace circles into Bobbie’s back, feeling her muscles beneath her fingertips. She had to suppress a shiver, but nothing more. The immense warmth flowing from her gave Chrisjen a sense of worry that would trump any arousal.

She had never seen Bobbie like this. The most vulnerable she’d ever seen her was that time at the ocean, Bobbie’s first time at all and Chrisjen’s first time truly appreciating it. Her look of utter homesickness made Chrisjen’s stomach clench whenever she thought of it. But even compared to that, now Bobbie was an absolute wreck. 

Then the marine had jerked herself out of Chrisjen’s embrace and was retching into the bowl, hanging half off the side of the bed. Chrisjen’s arms flailed wildly for a moment as she regained her balance and threw them around Bobbie again to keep her from falling. With one shaky hand, she grasped a loose bundle of Bobbie’s hair and held it back.

A long minute passed, and eventually Bobbie laid back down again, her brow furrowed and her lips ever so slightly apart, as if she was trying to whisper something but hadn’t the energy.

It was only when Chrisjen positioned her so that her face was directly in line with her chest, and her breath misted the crease in between Chrisjen’s breasts that Bobbie spoke.

“I don’t feel well,” she slurred, sounding even loopier than she had just a few minutes ago. 

“I know. That’s why you need to fucking sleep.” 

Bobbie groaned, making a clumsy attempt to intertwine her legs with Chrisjen’s beneath the covers. When she ran out of energy, Chrisjen finished the job for her, and they lay there in a comfortable, if only temporary, silence.


	2. Lullaby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've only read through Caliban's War, so I have no idea what actually happens when they explore the new systems, but this is my take on the Bobbie/Chrisjen side of it

Bobbie lay her head down on the pillow, letting the whir of the air recyclers calm her mind. She needed to rest, the aching in her bones and the stiffening bruises reminded her, even though she’d brushed off each and every doctor who’d told her the same thing.

  
She remembered calling Chrisjen a few hours ago, no, maybe it was a few days ago- she really couldn’t remember- telling her that she was fine, it was just a few scrapes. She told Chrisjen not to worry. She did mention, though, that it was getting harder to fall asleep. That in this new system, far, but not too far, from home, she hadn’t slept for more than an hour at a time in weeks. That the ring still glimmered in her nightmares, despite having used it to traverse numerous systems. That the blue glow outside the window was eating her up from inside out. Just the idea of it consumed her.  
Chrisjen’s reply came quickly. Too quickly, really, for the Secretary General of U.N., who undoubtedly had more important things to attend to than a lovestruck, homesick, Martian marine. So, Bobbie was surprised but grateful when she got the notification.

  
She opened it and sighed without meaning to. God, she missed Chrisjen. She was wearing a bright blue sari, her array of jewels striking Bobbie right in the place she hurt most. She was a Martian, and her loyalty had been tested time and time again, but she always had a soft spot for the ocean. Today- or tonight, whichever it was- Chrisjen’s diamonds reflected the blue of her sari, like sunlight sparkling off the waves. Bobbie choked back a painful sob, then smiled weakly. Even millions of miles away, Chrisjen could wreak havoc on her emotions.

  
Then Bobbie pressed play, and Chrisjen’s deep voice filled her with warmth. “Bobbie,” she breathed, “I miss you.” Bobbie grinned, eyes half closed, watching as the older woman tried to wipe the fear and longing off her face, “And I’m glad you’re okay. But I told you not to fucking die. So, you goddamn better be alright.” Bobbie laughed, regretting it instantly as her ribs flashed in pain. “I’m sorry you’re having trouble sleeping,” Chrisjen continued, changing her tone a third time. “Lay down and close your eyes before I continue.”

  
Millions of miles and light days away, even through the ring, Bobbie obeyed. She crawled underneath the covers, sinking into the cot. It was uncomfortable, but the restless exhaustion weighed on her heavily.

  
Softly, without warning or prelude, Chrisjen began to sing. Bobbie’s eyes flew open in surprise, but they were greeted with total darkness except for the halo of light surrounding the screen. She was singing in a language Bobbie didn’t understand- she guessed it was Persian. The song was sung in verse, a gentle, rocking lullaby that made her mind slow and her body melt. Her breaths grew deeper, and the velvet dark of sleep pulled her down.

  
Chrisjen kept on singing, and Bobbie recognized the song beginning over again. Just how many times Chrisjen had repeated it, she didn’t know. But that the old woman knew she needed to hear it over and over, for as long as she possibly could, was no surprise. It comforted Bobbie, and she could feel sleep winning her over. Chrisjen’s voice blurred as she began to drift out of consciousness, but just before she fell asleep, Bobbie knew with absolute certainty that a vast distance away, across time and space, Chrisjen was still singing to her.


End file.
